Out Of Hand (Yogscast)
by WannaPlayKevinBacon
Summary: Minecraftia suffers a zombie apocalypse when the normally simple mob evolves into something quick and ravenous, and their mutation becomes contagious. Warnings: Cursing, violence, slash, non-slash, adult content, zombies
1. Eerie

AN: This is set in a mash-up world that spans the "Completeverse", YogLabs and Tekkit. I try not to take anymore liberties than I have to.

Warnings: Violence, gore, cursing, nothing big in this introductory chapter. Mild and very brief sexual content and slash in future chapters. I won't spoil pairings in the chapter notes until after they've been introduced.

A shoutout to Kelpurple90 who is an excellent writer on this site and has a glorious Yog series that starts with Tainted. Read them!

Thanks for reading!

* * *

It was a beautiful night, stars sparkling and clouds drifting lazily in the moonlight, causing haunting little shadows to chase one another across the landscape. It was quiet as well, not a single creature stirring in the serenity.

_Except for a wild Ridgedog._

The demigod took walks sometimes to amuse himself, but the gawking mortals ruined it more often or not when the sun was out. Testificates were the absolute worst, unaware of their own dispensability as they slammed doors and shouted at one another in their archaic little languages. Ridge found it amusing-when he wasn't seeking silence.

Ridge wasn't the most patient of men, nor was he a man at all, but when it came to the more natural citizens of the little world he watched over, he made allowances. Generally, the favor was returned, and mobs passed through the night without even sparing him a second glance. It was a great surprise, then, when the zombie had first noticed him and began following him. Ridge chalked it up to coincidence for a while, sharing the same destination with a shambling corpse, but it became quickly apparent that the creature was different. It moved deliberately, with eyes fixed on him like a predatory cat; it's body jerked with something like excitement as it chased-and it was chasing now, Ridge nearly jogging to avoid it.

The zombie caught the deity's arm and sank it's grubby teeth into the spot just above Ridge's glove, tearing fabric and skin as easily as wet paper. Letting a cry of surprise and annoyance break his steel composure, Ridge shoved the monster away and a flick of his wrist was all it took to remove the creature's head. It fell with a wet thud to the ground and Ridge turned his attention to the bite on his arm. He pulled his glove off with his teeth and let it fall to the ground as he rolled up his sleeve, grimacing at the state of the wound. It seemed alive, crawling with sickness and corruption, black swirls beneath his skin as something fought against his demigod blood. He watched the corruption spread upward, threading up the path of his veins and leaving grey, dead flesh in its wake. Thinking quickly, Ridge reached and dug his fingers into his shoulder, gritting his teeth as he felt flesh and bone separate at his urging, his arm ripping free. Blood gushed from the wound, more for show than anything, and Ridge growled to himself when he heard more of the creatures closing in. Abandoning his peaceful walk, Ridge flew off toward his base, mind set on writing an urgent letter.

* * *

"I'm on my way!" Xephos sighed, "How hard is it to just make sure you've got efficient oxygen before you take off in a rocket you dumbass?"

Honeydew shielded his eyes as the spaceman's rocket took off from the ground, "Be careful, shitlords," he muttered into his communicator.

Xephos' voice shot back loudly enough that Honeydew jumped, "Lalna doesn't understand that phrase. Why don't you try 'fly to the fucking moon with no oxygen, shitlords!' instead?"

"I said I'm sorry now come and save me!" Lalna cried, his voice high with worry.

"Just calm down and conserve your oxygen. I'm heading there as fast as I can!"

Honeydew jumped again when suddenly a mailbox appeared a foot or so away, "Ooh! What have we got here?" The dwarf opened the box and pulled out a letter with penmanship so flowy that it's pretension could only have one source.

_Xephos,_

_There is something very wrong with the zombies. It's contagious so lock yourselves up. Warn the others if you can. I've gone to figure it out._

_Ridgedog_

"Brilliant," the dwarf muttered, "Xephos? Lalna?"

"Busy!" twin voices replied.

"Just board it up! Faster!"

"I'm trying! All I have is-there! Test it again!"

Twin sighs of relief then, and a background hiss, "Thank heavens," Xephos muttered, "Now what is it, Honeydew?"

A crash cut the dwarf off and he looked toward the south fence where a group of zombies unlike any he'd ever seen-in broad daylight-was leaning into the wood, cracking it, "How fast can you get home, lads?" he muttered.

Lalna and Xephos exchanged worried glances, "You're alright here?" Xephos asked as he finished fueling the rocket.

"Go," Lalna said, shoving odds and ends into a bag, "I'll finish up here and come down when I'm done."

Xephos nodded and took off again, seeing the cause for Honeydew's alarm as he parachuted to the ground. The sun was still high enough that a bead of sweat ran down the back of his neck, and yet there was a crowd of zombies breaking through their defenses, and not a single one was burning.

"What's going on!" Xephos shouted, his tone accusatory.

"I didn't do this!" Honeydew snapped, hovering above the compound, "Ridge sent a damn letter. It's in the box!"

Xephos stepped toward the box just as the fence broke completely and the zombies that hadn't been crushed in half against the wood began rushing in. Xephos grabbed the letter and turned to run into the factory, but he wasn't quick enough, and the fastest of the zombies sank it's teeth into his shoulder, tearing out a sizable chunk of flesh. The spaceman barely had time to scream before Lalna was there, pulling the creature away, "Move!"

Xephos ran toward the factory as Lalna followed, blocking up the way behind them.

"What's going on?!" he cried, moving to inspect Xephos' wound.

"Letter," Xephos gasped, holding it out as rubble fell from above.

"Up, lads!" Honeydew called down, "They'll be through any minute!"

Lalna wrapped his arms around Xephos' waist and lifted him to Honeydew who grabbed his uninjured arm and hoisted him up, leaving Lalna at the bottom alone. Honeydew moved Xephos to the far side of the upper level before moving back to the opening, "Help!" Lalna squeaked as zombies poured into the factory.

The scientist jumped and caught the dwarf's hand, pulling himself up and using the thick soles of his boots to kick at the zombies that got too close. When they were safely out of reach, a few carefully placed factory blocks shut out the noise, "Better read that letter," Honeydew prompted.

Xephos unfolded it clumsily with one hand and sighed, "Brilliant, a contagious zombie virus... wait, contagious?"

Honeydew winced and Lalna walked to Xephos' side, ignoring the worrying words and tending his friend's shoulder, "This needs serious mending. I'll do what I can."

"You'd better tie me up," Xephos said grimly, "Just in case."

Lalna met his gaze, "You're gonna be alright. I promise."

* * *

Sjin wiped the sweat from his face with his handkerchief, shielding his eyes from the sun directly above in the sky, the sprinklers were doing their best to shelter the plants from the heat, and their soft clicks were the metronome of Sjin's work, back bent in the fields, crafting and sorting in the barn, monitoring machines beneath his pleasant house. Life was good, all in all, as long as he ignored the sludge boilers at the end of the fields. They were Xephos and Sips' main issue after all, and after so many years as Sips' right hand, he had learned to ignore a lot.

That was precisely why it took him so long to notice when it went quiet, eerily quiet through the entire farm. Staring out across the fields toward Hat Corp, he was alerted by the smell of the sludge, acrid and heavy, and much stronger than the usual occasional unpleasant whiff. The sound was what finally prompted him to turn around, and he saw the zombies, shambling through the shattered remains of the sludge tank, shattered glass, broken wood, twisted iron and liquid poison. They were fast, moving with clear intent toward him. Red panic flashed in Sjin's mind as he looked for the nearest weapon and found none but his spellbook.

The fireballs made little difference to the undead, and they forged on as flames licked their rotting bodies, driving Sjin back to the house. He closed the doors behind him and shoved the small furnaces in front to bar the way. The smell of burning death was overpowering and the farmer had to cover his face with his shirt to breathe. His heart was pounding in his ears and dulled the sound of the zombies snarling at his door, testing the windows and walls. They didn't search long, showering glass throughout the kitchen when they finally managed to break one of the large windows. Sjin stumbled through the glass, running up the stairs and flinging fireballs behind him. He fumbled with his spellbook, seeking out one that he hated using, Lalna's Boltfire, dangerous and destructive, it's power crackled around his fingertips. He only cast it once, only needed to once. Lightning rained down on his pursuers and they-and his home's floor and walls-burst into flames. It spread quickly, and Sjin ran to the tallest point of his home, Touch-Digging his way through the wall and aiming for one of the taller trees outside, he jumped with his eyes closed.

There was no bone-breaking impact, no glaring pain, and when he opened his eyes he was safely in the tree he'd jumped for. He made his way down as black smoke rolled all around, bringing the stench of burning sludge and decay with it. His breathing was ragged from his brutalized lungs and when he reached the ground, he stumbled away from the Farm with little goal in mind other than avoiding the Taint. Destruction loomed behind Sjin, and even as tears cleaned the soot from his cheeks, he never looked back.

* * *

A long way from the destruction, two of SipsCo's three members were working odd jobs while they waited for the return of their engineer. Turps was singing happily to himself at the manual grinder while Sips busied himself bracing the factory's underside with baked mud bricks and chiseled dirt, "Turps did you break some of my torches? There's a bunch of zombies down here!"

Turps paused, the grinder coming to an eerie silence, "Sips?" he whispered, stepping toward the access hole in the floor.

There was a muffled groaning, the sound of scuffling and then Sips burst through the open floor, smeared with mud and panic, "Turps fucking run!"

Turps did as he was told, sprinting away toward the stairs that led to Sips' office level. He heard a thud and a grunt just as he mounted the stairs. Behind him, one of the monsters had tackled Sips-whose muddy feet had made the concrete a death trap in its own right-between the twin statues. Turps hesitated for a moment then leapt back down to help his boss, shoving the nearest statue over onto the legs of the zombie. It snarled but the distraction was enough to let Sips wriggle free, "Thanks Grandpa," the man muttered to the fallen statue.

Taking no chances, Turps grabbed Sips around the waist and bounded up the stairs, dragging his boss with him. Once they found level footing, they began stacking anything within arm's reach at the top of the stairs while most of the emerging undead struggled to maneuver over their fallen fellow, piling up and crawling over one another like ants. The barricade was waist high when the first zombies reached it and one closed her hand around Sips' wrist, dragging it toward her mouth. Turps drew his sword and swung it downward in a brutal arc, taking the zombie's arm off. She swiped around with the other arm, but Sips shoved her back, toppling her over, "This isn't working. Get up to the roof!"

Turps hesitated for a second before Sips gave him a shove, and he ran for the ladder, scrambling up it. Sips followed, stopping at the top to kick it down just as the undead swarmed below. Turps crossed to Sips and pulled the tatters of his suit away from his back, his fingers carefully feeling for injuries through the smeared mud, "I think you're ok," he muttered.

"Fucking right, it's gonna take more than a couple of zombies to kill me," Sips said smugly as Turps paced the roof.

"How about a few hundred?" Turps asked, peering over the edge of the factory's roof.

Sips looked up and walked to the edge of the roof, looking out over the compound. Zombies were packing in through the breaches in the fence, trampling their farm and turning the entire ground into an obscene crawling, unliving thing, "I'm starting to think I have real shitty fucking luck with dirt factories, Turps."

Turps smiled but it was a nervous, grimacing sort of thing, "At least nobody got hurt."

"It wouldn't matter, really, hurt or not," Sips said thoughtfully, "All I had was the shovel I dropped downstairs and a few strawberries. If they don't leave pretty soon we'll be dead up here anyway."

"Don't say that!" Turps said, "I've finally got you all alone with your shirt off."

Sips chuckled, the grim circumstances momentarily forgotten, "Well I'll be sleeping commando so try not to stare directly at my ass if you can help it."

"Whatever you say, boss."

* * *

The Nether was burning, nothing new, but it made Rythian nervous just the same, especially when his charge was with him, and there was a veritable apocalypse back at the base. The zombies had descended en masse and Rythian had barely managed to find Zoeya in the horde of writhing, screaming, biting monsters. Teep had already been torn apart, and they had started on Zoeya. Beside him, she cradled her arm that sported the crude bite, and her usual joy was drained if not completely dead, "Tee needed me."

"He's gone, Zoeya. I'm sorry, but we couldn't stay. I had to protect you."

Zoeya shot him a look that almost made him feel guilty for his resolve, "What about the animals?"

"Zombies never bother animals," Rythian comforted, "They wouldn't start now."

"They bothered Teep," she said sadly, eyes on the ground, "I know he's different, but it doesn't make me feel any better. I want to go home."

"We will," Rythian said, "I promise. Just be careful for now. The other portals can't be far."

Zoeya was quiet at first, trudging along beside him without comment or complaint, but when they reached the base of a mountain of soul sand, she sighed. The sound was frail, haunted and more tired than he'd ever heard her, "Promise me we're going home again, Rythian."

"I promise." The words came easy, but perhaps they shouldn't have, struggling uphill in hell-sand through the world's molten, evil underbelly; it had always been proof to Rythian that man must carry evil in the core of him, just like Minecraftia did. The words never came easy again-no words did.

The ghast was swift, silent, amazingly so for its size and intent. The fireball just missed Rythian and hit Zoeya square in the back. She lurched forward in the sand and then down, dropping as sharply as Rythian's heart, like a stone rolling away into nothing, and it was there that she found the lava.

Her entire body seemed to scream and Rythian was at her in a second, reaching in and pulling her out, "Rythian help me! Rythian it hurts!"

He dragged her carefully away from the pool, his own skin burning from the contact, "Zoeya hold on," he said as calmly as he could, "I'll find help."

"Don't leave me," she choked, her face as black as night, burned nearly away, "Please stay. I can't see."

Rythian closed his eyes tightly, "I'm here," he said, "I'll stay with you."

"Promise me... that we'll go home."

His tears fell onto her, and his heart hammered in his chest so hard that he hoped it really would burst, "Zoeya, we will be together again."

"Rythian, oh Rythian," she sputtered from cracked lips, "I love you."

Rythian sobbed openly, clutching her hand, "Zoeya I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She slipped away easily, still muttering Rythian's name as she passed into darkness. Above them, the ghast circled and before it released a barrage of fireballs, Rythian teleported back to the portal. Wiping the tears from his soot smeared face, he stepped through alone.

The horde was waiting for him, snarling and reaching, but with nothing to lose and a dependable sword at his disposal, they fell quickly, gory rotten vengeance for those he had lost, a rotting tourniquet for his bleeding, broken heart. When he was finally alone, left in relative silence, the Enderborn allowed himself to breathe. It was a series of painful hitches and pitiful hiccups at first, but when he'd swallowed down his tears, the world became a little clearer, and he was left with one simple goal. Survive.

* * *

"Nilesy move!" Lomadia shouted, "Now!"

Nilesy slashed once more at the zombies around their home before running toward the sound of Lomadia's voice, "I'm here!" he breathed when he had managed to climb up onto the great owl, "They've taken the house."

Lomadia didn't answer as the owl rose into the sky, leaving dozens of zombies to stumble after them. Nilesy watched as their house became a small dot and they were homeless. Again.

"Maybe the villagers would let us crash there for a bit until this clears up," Lomadia said.

"I'm sure there's no hard feelings about those bookcases," Nilesy replied.

The village had seemed a good a place as any, plenty of homes and safety in numbers, but as they passed overhead, they saw it, a wave of the undead undulating like the tides through the village, tearing at doors, walls, windows and flesh. Lomadia's resolve was steel in the face of this new horror-and she'd always been the stronger of the two, in mind and body, and Nilesy had no problem admitting that, "We'll get out ahead of them where we can gain the upper hand," she said, "They're just zombies."

"Out in the daylight," Nilesy said, "And about a hundred times as many, but sure, still just zombies... only..."

"Only?"

"Oh nothing just... they seemed smarter maybe. They didn't just pound on the doors, I mean. They crashed the windows and they were damn fast," Nilesy said, "You think anyone else knows about this?"

Lomadia was quiet for a while, her mind obviously working through their afternoon of chaos, "Maybe Ridge," she said, "Although I'm not really inclined to go for a visit."

"Maybe Rythian knows what's going on," Nilesy said, "We could try to find him."

Mr Owl gave a loud hoot and Lomadia patted him absently, "I don't know where to even start looking. Maybe we'd be better off out to sea on an island of some sort, something secluded and easy to defend. This has to be just a temporary setback."

"A setback," Nilesy mused grimly, feeling suddenly weak, "Right."

"I told you not to try and fight so many," Lomadia said.

Nilesy shook his head, "It wasn't that," he said, "They were going at the witches too and one caught me with a stray potion. I'm just feeling a little green."

"Lash yourself to me and get some rest," Lomadia said, her voice kind and warm where it had been cold iron, "But you'd better not drool on me."

Nilesy found a bit of braided cord in the things he'd managed to salvage from the house and carefully tied himself to Lomadia, weaving it through their belt loops, "If I do, feel free to untie me," he replied with a chuckle, testing the knot before leaning forward against her back.

Lomadia's brow creased in worry at the feverish heat from him and the weakness of his arms around her waist, "I'm going to find us a safe place," she whispered once his breathing evened out into a sleep cadence. Lomadia had two soft spots, her owls everyone knew about, but her pool boy was a more closely guarded chink in her armor, and his illness was a cold blade of worry in her heart as she nudged Mr Owl toward the coast.

The beaches were overrun, the undead stumbling and shuffling in the sand with renewed excitement when they spotted her above them. She was calculating their chances when suddenly Nilesly slumped backward and she had to pull him up by the collar of his shirt, "Nilesy? Nilesy!"

He was breathing, but her calls didn't rouse him, and her owl was showing obvious signs of fatigue, "Shit!"

Crossing the ocean wasn't an option, so she circled back to find somewhere safe to leave Nilesy while she cleared the beach. Along the coast she found a jungle, it's canopy thick enough to support human weight, and even Mr Owl's for a short time. They landed and she made quick work of untying Nilesy and laying him down carefully, tying him instead to the thick branch where he slept, "I'll be right back," she swore, "When the beach is safe."

Climbing back onto the owl, she gave him one last look, his face pale and tinged with green, shining with sweat, but he was alive. That was enough, and she took off into the sky now turning the varied pinks of sunset.


	2. No Girls Allowed

A/N: Thanks to everyone who gave me feedback for this story! I'm excited about this one. Any and all feedback is always appreciated. A bit of gore and violence ahead, but no serious warnings yet!

* * *

Three hours.

It had been three hours.

Circling the beach, taking the undead down one by one with her bow, but her arrows had run out, and the great owl was flying so low his wings were cutting into the water like ill-equipped rudders. Lomadia let out a cry of frustration when the cold water bit into her calves and the owl was belly-deep in the water, struggling, floundering.

Lomadia was swinging her sword, treading water as the owl screeched and flapped behind her, flogging her with unearthly strength in its desperation to stay afloat. Each swing of her sword brought one down, and another swam forward, clambering toward the appetizing meal. Her arms and legs were screaming as she treaded water, and a few clumsier slashes were punished by bites until she was weeping both tears and blood into the salt water.

Heartbeat slowing, silence broken only by the choppy water and the infernal sounds of teeth on bone. The owl was dead, and they were feeding. When the advancing horde had overpowered her, she had ducked beneath one great motionless wing and prayed they would leave, disinterested in dead prey, but they were gorging themselves on her large companion, and she would be next.

Her blood had stained the water, and she had stopped feeling cold. They'd torn the owl apart, and she was floating on her back, but they made no moves toward her. She could see the stars on their course through the night sky, and a gentle peace lighted upon her until she heard it. Nilesy was calling out for her.

The water made it hard to walk, but she moved with the others toward the sandy shore. They jostled into one another, some of them dropping limbs and flesh upon impact, but they avoided her. Her claws churned the water and slid through their rotting flesh like margarine. Her eyes illuminated the way and they followed until firm sand was beneath them. When she passed the trees, they became inconsequential. Her destination was set. Nilesy was still calling out for her.

* * *

Landscape rolled by, and the zombies seemed to converge in the villages and bases, but travelers-even on foot-could avoid them with the slightest care. That's how it was for nearly two weeks, weaving and ducking and hiding from passing hordes like flocks of sheep or schools of fish, moving together as one. Lalna kept them together when Xephos lost so much blood and the tattered edges of the bite had gone green with infection. With careful doctoring, and perhaps a bit of blind luck, he avoided sepsis and the wound was improving. It would be another of the spaceman's many scars, and their fearless leader was still weak, but whatever virus took hold of the zombies, it hadn't gotten to him.

They'd fled the island with little to their name, but Lalna had shoved as much as possible into the Enderchest that linked to Honeydew's Enderpouch and that had kept them fed and hydrated and provided Xephos' healing potions and bandages. Honeydew himself managed to stay out of trouble with his jetpack and scout ahead when it was needed. They were looking for Panda Labs in hopes of rescuing Nano or using the lab as a safe haven to ride out the apocalypse.

Lalna's hopes lifted when he saw the lab largely untouched; the farm was neglected but the sprinklers still ran. Throwing the door open, his grin faded when he heard the singing, "Nano?" he called, receiving no answer.

It was wordless and strained, but Nano's voice drifted up from the lower levels in a song with no rhythm, just scattered notes of madness. Lalna's heart dropped as he descended the ladder and saw the powdery traces of taint settled over their sorting system. His feet slipped on the ladder and he lost his hold, crashing down to the bottom level. Gagging on the powder that dispersed at his impact, he hurried to his feet.

"Alright mate?" Honeydew called from the top of the ladder.

"F-fine!" Lalna said, "Stay with Xephos!"

The dwarf muttered but disappeared back to the spaceman's side and Lalna peered into the purple miasma that glittered with particulates and obscured all but the brightest light and darkest shadow. The cooing was louder, and he knew she was close.

It happened suddenly, her appearance in the amaranthine fog, her singing still echoing around the room. Her eyes were completely gone, covered in the creeping taint and left blind. Her skin was a sick shade of lavender and her teeth were bared so that each verse of her mad humming was punctuated in a wet hissing inhale. Nano felt him, or at least heard him, cocking her head as she approached. Dragging behind her in the settled slimy dust were four purple tentacles each the thickness of an elephant's trunk and long enough that they disappeared into the mist behind Nano even as she stopped inches from him.

Lalna bit back a cry of frustration as he stared at her, tears spilling down his cheeks. Revulsion and guilt twisted themselves into a knot at the center of him and he let out his held breath as silently as he could.

The break in the quiet was terrifying as she darted forward, pinning him against the wall and snapping at his face. Lalna pushed her face away, carefully avoiding her mouth. He was still half in shock when she bit down on his fingers and the pain was distinct, but the material of his glove held and he shoved her away, stumbling to the ladder.

He felt the first tentacle hit the middle of his back like a shovel and coil around his middle with liquid speed. He went to his knees, still struggling as the second appendage wrapped around his neck, constricting with the force of a pulverizer and he was able to utter only one surprised cry as the tentacles dragged him back toward her. He clawed desperately at the appendage that cut off his air; everywhere it touched his bare skin burned and he could hear whispers somewhere in the back of his mind when Nano moved to stand over him. The singing had stopped, and she let out a low growl, lifting him up above her.

Her face swam in and out of focus as he started to lose consciousness, feeling nothing and then suddenly a rush of movement and his face hitting the floor, "Up, lad!" Honeydew's voice thundered near his ear and he forced himself to his feet.

The tentacles that had held him were bloodied stumps, cleaved in half by the bloodied axe that Honeydew held as he shoved Lalna to the ladder. Nano's screams shook the entire building and the climbing was difficult, but they managed to reach the second level. Honeydew destroyed the ladder beneath them, trying to prevent her following, "I don't think that's-" Lalna started.

Four tentacles shot up through the hole in the floor and spread out to anchor themselves, "Brilliant!" Honeydew growled.

"Here!" Xephos called from the corner where he was trying to shove Nano's witch oven toward them.

Lalna and Honeydew rushed to help, moving the heavy furnace over the entrance and crushing the tentacles. Another scream and they curled in around the oven like the legs of a dying spider, "It won't hold for long," Lalna said, helping Xephos to the ladder, "We have to get out of here."

They climbed as quickly as possible with Xephos' injury, and Honeydew wedged his atomic disassembler against the front door once they'd burst through. Lalna made his way to the farm and lowered himself into the irrigation channel, rinsing off the taint that remained before pulling himself out to lay on his back in the muddied field. Xephos came into view a few long moments later. He'd bled through his bandage and he wore a cautious look of sympathy, "Are you alright friend?"

Lalna sighed, "We have to fix this, Xephos. Waiting for Ridgedog isn't an option."

"Sounds like a plan," Xephos said, offering his hand, "Shelter first."

"And we need to look at that shoulder," Lalna said, standing with Xephos' help, "See how much damage you did."

"Maybe we could find some food?" Honeydew added as he joined them, "A bit tired of stale Enderpouch bread."

Lalna chuckled, "We'll find a forest upstream then. There should be food there."

"Shame all of this is probably tainted," Honeydew sighed, "Oh well, let's get out of here, lads."

Lalna glanced at Panda Lab once more as he led the group past it toward the tree line, reaching up to rub the red mark at his throat.

* * *

"Trott? Did you ever kill that zombie in the wall?"

"Ages ago," Trott said, glancing up from his machinery, "What are you on about?"

Smithy was staring down a zombie that had stumbled into the center of the room, now standing almost patiently about ten feet from them, "We've got a visitor."

The zombie looked between them with a calculating intelligence before darting forward and taking hold of Trott. Before the scientist could yell, Ross was there to pull the zombie away, "What were you idiots doing?!" he shouted, "Inviting it to tea?"

Ross shoved the zombie backwards and decapitated it with a swift swing of his sword. "Something like that," Trott muttered, "Thanks, Ross."

"That was mental!" Smithy cried, "I've never seen one move so fast!"

Ross wiped his sword clean on the corpse and looked at Trott, "It's midday out there. Maybe you should go out for a walk or something and I'll clean this up."

Trott shook his head, obviously shaken but doing his best to shrug it off, "I'm alright. There's a lot to get done here," he said, walking away back to the machines.

Ross moved over to hoist the zombie up, Smithy rushing to help, "He's alright," Smithy said.

"I thought we had the place fairly lit up. It looked like this one came down from the shack," Ross said, avoiding the subject.

"We'd better get some more torches up there," Smithy said grimly as they left the secret entrance.

As they rounded the base of the hill, Smithy was half lost in his thoughts when Ross dropped his end of the zombie, pulling Smith forward with the sudden weight shift. Smithy scowled but followed Ross' shocked gaze and his mouth fell open.

The Hat Corp sign was swarming with zombies, their figures blackening the marble like bugs in flour. The sign was creaking softly in the breeze under the chorus of muttering groans of the zombies. Ross began to walk at a brisk, angry pace toward them with Smithy on his heels.

"Aw fuck!" Ross shouted, "Look at them all! Get down you bastards; you'll bring it down on top of us!"

Smithy grabbed Ross before he could get closer, and the mass of zombies paused and stared intently at them. In a horrifying turn of events, the metal struts gave a groan of protest and the sign started to sway, "Inside!" Smithy yelled over the deafening sound of twisting metal and snarling zombies.

Ross was anchored to the spot, and Smithy had to pull him away with all of the force he could muster as the sign snapped free of its supports and fell. It was surreal, like horrifying slow motion as it crashed down, completely destroying the Hat Shack and the terrain where they'd been standing. Ross fell to his knees and they stared in silence, slack jawed and dumbfounded.

Trott emerged from the secret entrance, running up the hill, "What are you two doing out here?!"

The zombies didn't take long to recover and they ran, stumbled, crawled after Trott when he shouted, "Hey!" Smithy yelled, trying to pull their focus while Ross was still frozen in shock, "Here you bastards, come get some of this!"

The zombies that could still walk took after Smithy as Trott retreated back into the base, and the green man drew his sword, pulling Ross to his feet, "There's too many of them," Ross muttered.

"Then get ready to run," Smithy said.

* * *

Sips watched the sun as it crawled lazy across the sky, beaming down on his face that already stung from the burns. His lips felt like sharp rocks when he licked them, taking a slow, deep breath, "Hey... hey Turps," he muttered, a smile cracking his lips as it spread them a bit too wide, "I bet Peabody's having a beach party at that factory island of his. What do you think?"

Turps didn't answer. He hadn't said anything for a day, maybe two, but Sips kept trying. He couldn't muster the energy to get to Turps and there was nothing he could do to help if he did. Too dehydrated to even cry for the dire situation, he laughed instead, "Fuck it. Leave me all alone up here why don't you?"

The sounds below made him jump, crashing and cursing and the growls of zombies that had long-since gone quiet. Sips rolled onto his side and struggled to his knees as he heard the telltale scuttling of someone climbing to the roof. A hallucination, it had to be. They'd knocked down the ladders, but Sips stood with an exhausted groan, ready for a swifter death eaten alive than slowly starving to death on the baking roof. What burst out of the hole to the factory, however, was certainly not the undead.

Sips' wiped at his eyes with dirty hands, trying to clear his vision, "Sjin?"

Sjin smiled, putting down the shovel in his hands; the head of it was caked in gore and hair, "Hiya Sipsy," he said, rushing forward a step to catch his friend when Sips stumbled toward him.

Sips fell against him weakly, his hands trembling as they tangled in the fabric of Sjin's shirt, "Sjin, fuck."

The gray man's lips were cracked from dehydration and his body was gaunt and burned by the sun, skin stretching over his ribs and and the sharp angle of his hips just above his pants that had always been a slow, sensual curve. Sjin held his smile and wrapped his arms around Sips' shoulders, "I'm here. We're alive."

Sips shook against him for a long pause before he stiffened suddenly with realization, "Turps... oh shit."

"Turps?" Sjin asked, looking around for the man he hadn't noticed at first. Turps was on the opposite end of the factory roof, curled on his side but completely motionless.

Sjin rushed over and knelt beside Turps, rummaging through his scavenged supplies and finding a bottle of water. He carefully tipped the bottle at Turps' mouth, allowing a small trickle to flow past his dry lips and watching his Adam's Apple for a sign of swallowing. It bobbed once slowly and then again, and Turps sputtered for more when Sjin moved the bottle away, "He's alive, Sips!"

Sips hadn't made it far before going to his knees, and Sjin scolded himself for not attending to him as well. He moved quickly to Sips and gave him the bottle, watching the gray man gulp it down, "Thanks Sjin," he muttered.

Turps had managed to prop himself up to a half-sitting position, and Sjin returned to help him, "We've got to get you inside," he said kindly, picking Turps up carefully.

Traversing the ramshackle staircase he'd made to reach the roof was the hardest part, nearly falling or dropping Turps each time the terrain shifted beneath him, but soon Turps was safely inside out of the sun, and Sjin returned to the roof.

Sips was standing again, leaning on the edge of the roof and looking over, "I knew they were leaving, but we were already almost dead by then. I figured it'd be better just... waiting it out."

"I'm sorry I didn't make it sooner," Sjin said, "I found a few abandoned villages on the way and gathered supplies. There's a lot less zombies when you travel. They seem to congregate around civilization."

Sips sighed and let Sjin pull his arm around his shoulder, shuffling weakly along the roof, "I saw you so many times before... this time I didn't think it was real."

Sjin smiled as he led Sips down the stairs, "I'm real, and I'm here. We're going to be alright now."

Turps was nursing another bottle of water from Sjin's bag when they reached him, and he managed a tired smile, "I told you we'd make it, Sips."

"Get back to work," Sips replied, strain in his voice as he sat beside Turps.

Sjin clapped his hands together with upbeat resolve, "Right, I've saved the day, now it's time to clean up this place."

Sips took the bottle when Turps offered it, "I don't think we're gonna be much help."

"You two need to rest, but don't eat anything. You'll make yourselves sick. I saw a cow just outside of the fence when I came through. I'll bring you some milk, but behave yourselves while I'm gone," Sjin said with a smile, taking one last look at Sips before ducking outside.

"We were dying," Turps said quietly, laying flat on the floor.

Sips finished the bottle and tossed it aside, "Well we're still here, and all those dead pieces of shit aren't so match point motherfuckers."

"Are we really not going to eat anything?" Turps asked, "Or are you afraid Sjin will spank you?"

"I don't know about you Turps but my ass is sunburnt so yeah that's a pretty fucking scary thought," Sips muttered.

Turps chuckled weakly as Sips moved to stretch out beside him, "I'm too tired to get down the stairs anyway."

"I could push you if you want," Sips muttered, already drifting off.

"No you couldn't."

* * *

The sun was setting when Rythian finally stopped to get his bearings. The horde he had cleaved through was following him, relentless but mercifully slow; he had time for the occasional break as he tried to form a plan. The landscape had become obscenely cheery, trudging through a massive field of sunbaked barley that stuck to his clothes and smelled like home-the sort he'd never had. A loud crash had pulled his attention a while before and he'd taken to running through the clinging grains in the same direction.

Rythian left the field behind for a forest and emerged very suddenly into another-albeit much smaller-horde of zombies.

Voices echoed over the snarls and he saw two figures fighting off the encroaching creatures. Rythian took up his sword for what seemed like the hundredth time that afternoon and started cutting his way toward them. He caught the eyes of the man in the suit and he looked relieved, "Are you on our side?!" he called.

Rythian dispatched the closer zombies to give him a bit of breathing room, "Do you have somewhere safe to go?"

The green one joined them, "The entrance is just over the hill there. We're trying to get to it."

"Lead the way," Rythian said, turning his attention back to the swordplay.

Ross fell in behind him and Smith took point, only a few feet of space between them, enough for a fairly generous sword swing. Rythian's heart pounded away the seconds as he covered both of his new companions to the best of his ability. The first of them seemed more adept to fighting, more cunning, but the suited man was largely reactionary, and one ill-timed thrust buried his sword in the stomach of a zombie.

"Careful Ross," the green man called back to him, "Don't get it stuck."

Ross lifted his foot and kicked at the zombie, "Fuck off Smithy I know what I'm doing," he griped.

As Ross struggled with the impaled nuisance, one of the half-zombie casualties of the sign managed to creep in and latch onto his leg, biting into the back of his upper thigh. Fabric and flesh tore and blood spurted from the wound in a violent arc. Ross screamed and fell, his sword abandoned. Smithy and Rythian rushed back to him, killing the offending biter and dragging Ross to his feet, "We have to move now," Rythian said, "He won't make it."

Smithy dropped his own sword and pulled Ross to him, helping his friend hobble along, "Keep us alive for the last thirty feet and we'll give you shelter."

"Deal."

Rythian kept the zombies at bay as they crested the hill, but Ross was unable to keep more than the slowest pace. Out of pity and frustration, Smithy picked him up and ran the final steps to the door, bursting in with Rythian on his heels.

"What happened?!" Trott asked when Smithy dropped Ross on the bed and ran back to where Rythian was holding the door shut.

"Dirty fuckers tried to eat my arse, Trott!" Ross grumbled, his hands pressed to the back of his thigh.

Rythian helped Smithy block the door, stacking stone and dirt, "You'd better do something or he'll bleed out," he told Trott over his shoulder.

Trott's expression went haughty for a moment, "I know how to stitch up a wound," he said, rushing to the storage room.

Smithy turned to Rythian, "Thanks for saving our asses back there mate, or my ass anyway. You're welcome to stay here as long as you like."

Rythian nodded and started his circle of the base, checking that it was secure. As he paced, Trott made it back to Ross' side, "Pants off," he ordered.

"Trott wants in your pants, mate," Smithy mused, walking over.

Ross removed his pants gingerly and rolled onto his stomach, "I wish I could say this is the most humiliating position I've been in with you two."

Trott uncorked a bottle of antiseptic and poured it over the wound. "It looks like it missed the artery. You're lucky," he said, his body jerking forward when Ross' foot collided with his shoulder, "Don't kick me!"

"Well that hurt!" Ross said.

Smithy rolled his eyes as Trott sat on the Ross' legs, "If you two need privacy just let me know."

"Fuck! Fuck you Trott!" Ross growled through clenched teeth as Trott started suturing.

Trott chuckled, "Such a whiner."

* * *

The forest grew steadily darker as the daylight waned and the canopy thickened until the trio was forced to start seeking shelter. Lalna held back to fuss over Xephos while Honeydew scouted ahead, torch in hand to fend off the reaching shadows, "I think I see lights!"

"More torches?" Xephos called hopefully, slapping Lalna's hand away, "Stop bloody poking!"

"Don't be such a babby," Lalna said, "You popped your stitches once. I want to make sure these hold."

Xephos winced, "In my defense I was saving your asses from the bloody taintacles."

"I said I don't like calling them that," Lalna grouched, "We shouldn't even be talking about it."

Xephos patted Lalna's shoulder, "Don't worry, friend. We'll find a way to get her back to normal."

"It's a campfire! We're saved!" Honeydew shouted, the torch dancing in the near-darkness as he broke into a run.

"He's going to get us killed!" Lalna hissed, giving chase.

Xephos rolled his eyes and jogged behind them, bursting through the underbrush into a large clearing. He crashed into Lalna's back and grunted at the impact, but said nothing as his eyes found the reason Lalna had stopped. Inches away from Honeydew's throat was a diamond blade, wielded by a very young man. His hands shook as hard as his voice when he spoke, "Wh-what do you want?"

"Easy fella," Honeydew said, "We're friendly; we just saw your campfire, thought maybe it'd be a safe place."

The sword lowered and the trio released the collective breath they'd been holding, "It isn't safe, but feel free to stay."

Honeydew smiled at the boy and sat down when he did, "Do you perhaps have any food?"

"Honeydew!" Xephos scolded.

The boy nodded, "I've got more than I can eat. Take whatever you want out of the chests."

"You're Toby," Lalna said as Honeydew scampered off to loot , "I knew you were familiar. It's been a while."

Toby pushed his hair out of his face, obviously having neglected his appearance for as long as they had, "I guess it has."

"You're out here alone? What about Littlewood?" Xephos asked.

Toby paused for a moment, picking up a stick and poking at the fire, "He was with Parvis most of the time until Parvis took off with Strife again."

"So is he around?" Lalna asked, noticing how quiet the forest had become, even the breeze dying down.

"He's in there," Toby said, pointing to a clumsy little house situated on the edge of the clearing.

The house was barely visible at first, cloaked in shadow and built with logs, camouflaged by bark and leaves. It wasn't expertly built, nothing like the factories and mansions they were used to, but it was solid, and the inside was pitch black through the large windows along the front. All four approached it slowly, an undeniable sense of dread settling like a fog over them.

Honeydew stared hard into the little house, scanning for signs of life, "I don't see a damn thing, do you?"

Lalna and Xephos were silent, but when the spaceman's blue glow fell on an odd small tree in the corner, all three of them paused in an eerie moment of joint realization before the tree screamed forward and threw itself against the window. The window held, but all three fell away, Honeydew going to the ground with a shout, "Bloody hell! What the fuck is it?!"

"It's Littlewood," Toby said, pressing his hands and nose to the glass, his expression unreadable, "I didn't realize anything was wrong until I woke up and he was just a big tree. He almost caught me before I got out. Scared the shit out of me when he grabbed me. Any ideas what the hell is going on?"

"The zombies," Honeydew said, "They've gone wrong."

Toby closed his eyes, "Right, he got bit when he was out the other day. He told me the zombie was acting weird. I just thought he was screwing with me. It was such a little bite."

Toby folded his arms, clearly upset, and Honeydew lifted a hand to pat the young man's shoulder, "Chin up, we're going to figure some way out of this."

Lalna pulled Xephos aside back toward the campfire, "Do you think this forest is safe?"

"Is anywhere safe?" Xephos sighed, "I doubt it."

"I hope you're wrong," Lalna said, "But maybe we shouldn't stay here."

Honeydew interrupted the conversation before it could progress further, "I think we'd better move on, lads. This place isn't doing Toby any good and I'm pissing myself a bit too, truth be told. The boy said there's a bit of a cave near here. We could set up something defendable and wait out the night."

"We've got torches enough," Lalna said before Xephos could ask, the fear plain in the spaceman's glowing eyes.

Xephos hesitated, rubbing at his shoulder, "Fine. Right, good," he said as if trying to convince himself, "Let's just get away from that bloody house."


	3. Worst Case Scenario

Sips stood on the roof of the dirt factory with his hands on his hips, looking out over the compound with an air of something dangerously close to contentment. Turps' singing rang out from inside the factory and Sjin was working-shirt discarded-to repair the last of the fencing. Not far off a semi-feral cow and her calf grazed lazily on the tattered plants that hadn't been completely trampled by the undead. When Turps hit a particularly high note, the cow lifted her head and bellowed as if in protest. Sips chuckled and descended back into the factory, "Hear that, Turps? Not everybody's a fan."

"Well I'd like to hear her hit that note," Turps said. He was dragging the unbroken machinery from outside to the factory floor, trying to place them in some sort of production order, "When Xephos was telling us about the sawmill, do you remember any of what he said?"

Sips shrugged. Xephos usually instructed them in half-frazzled orders between jokes and even then they were usually just building components, parts of bigger machines. Without Xephos, SipsCo certainly showed no promise of progress. As they pondered, staring at a crafting table covered in cogs and plastic and metal sheets, Sips noticed that Turps' hand was wrapped in a bloodied strip of his shirt, "Jesus, what happened?"

Turps pulled his hand back against his chest, "I cut it on one of these stupid machine corners. It's not as bad as it looks. No worries."

Sips had plenty of worries, but then Sjin stepped inside, wiping sweat from his face, "Sips I think we should fortify the basement with iron bars. It's a little too open as it is."

Turps was still looking to Sips for help across the pile of components, and Sjin was pulling his shirt back into place over his head, ruffling his hair back into some semblance of order.

"Iron bars," Sips said, "Sounds good."

Sjin smiled, "I'll craft some up and meet you downstairs."

Turps sighed and gathered up the scattered components, "Maybe I'll just go work on the fence."

"We'll figure it out tonight," Sips promised, crossing to the basement's crude entrance.

"Right," Turps said as he left the factory.

Sjin had already placed several of the bars when Sips joined him, "No wonder the zombies got in here. You basically left the front door open."

"I don't think doors make them much difference either way," Sips said, picking up a few bars and making himself useful.

The basement's muggy heat was oppressive, and when he first felt the touches he mistook them for sweat running down his back. When Sjin's hands moved around to his chest and he felt the architect's breath on the back of his neck, Sips' stomach did a flip. He turned around and Sjin moved one hand up to caress his face, eyes low to avoid Sips' gaze. The gray man turned his head and pressed a subtle kiss to Sjin's palm, a glaring signal in a sea of ambiguity. Sjin looked up finally and their eyes met briefly before their lips did in a kiss that felt surreal and familiar all at once.

Their clothes were shed quick and easy, actions as ingrained as breathing and the cool against their skin contrasted sweetly against the heat raging inside of them. Sjin led Sips to the floor, the gray man allowing their lips to part only by an inch or so at a time, and the dirt was softer and cooler than expected, a fitting venue for their official reunion.

Currently, due to their circumstances, Sjin was the stronger of the two, but he wouldn't be for long, and Sips' grip on his thighs was already firm and insistent as he parted them and slid between. Their bodies met with slow, controlled friction and Sjin whimpered, arching up for more. Sips' hands moved to his hips and pushed them down to the dirt, holding them still. His expression was deliberate, like a man in deep concentration, and even after so long he knew exactly what to do, where to touch, even when to lean in and breathe a gruff little moan in Sjin's ear so that the cold sting of separation melted away in the sound of his voice, stained with earnest lust instead of sarcastic resentment. It went on like that, slow and gentle and so maddeningly intense that when Sips finally entered him it was like snapping a rubber band, tension spiraling away into overwhelming sensation; Sjin's cry echoed out into the afternoon and he wrapped himself around the gray man, whispering tearful promises and apologies until Sips quieted him with a kiss and there were a thousand things said in his silence.

* * *

Rythian listened to the faraway drip of water in the dark mining caves as Trott scuffled around behind him, searching. Otherworldly shaped formed in the dim surroundings until Trott lit a torch, "I told them to put up torches," Trott said, "They aren't the best listeners. Honestly if I could keep Smithy from setting fires and Ross from hurting himself we'd be unstoppably productive. Well... mostly Ross. Smithy's usually got his own thing going."

"You and Ross are close?" Rythian asked.

Trott chuckled, "I guess our friendship grew out of proximity and necessity."

"I can think of worse reasons," Rythian said.

"I suppose I could too," Trott said, jumping and dropping his torch when a stray spark burned his hand, cursing when it rolled away.

Rythian moved quickly, kneeling to pick up the torch. He lifted his eyes to find Trott's nose inches away from his, "Oh, here."

"You glow in the dark," Trott said, not moving to take the torch.

"Just my eyes," Rythian said, "It's not something worth discussing."

"I'll be the judge of that," Trott said, but he was smiling oddly.

Rythian felt himself blush and he stood quickly, breaking any tension-real or perceived, "Do you think your base is safe?" he asked as Trott relit the torch.

"Ross doesn't know much but he knows how to build. Don't let the big pile of rubble upstairs color your judgment. That was the zombies' fault."

Rythian let himself smile, just a little, "I won't."

Trott smiled as well before he placed the torch and raised his pick to chip at a decent coal deposit, "Leave it to us to be out of power in the bloody apocalypse."

"I try not to overstate the obvious but oil was probably not your wisest choice," Rythian said, looking down a dark passage to check for mobs.

"I had plans for a big nuclear reactor but you know what they say about the best laid plans of walruses and men hm? Maybe one day when this is all sorted," Trott said, "For now it's coal and hope to power our engines."

"Hope," Rythian sighed, "It's not terribly efficient either."

"Maybe not, but idiots have it in spades," Trott said, "I think we've got enough coal to run the genny for a day or two here. Hopefully by then I can have a magma crucible and lava generator on the go."

* * *

When Sips and Sjin had finished barring the basement, it was dark. Turps was asleep in his bed at the corner of the factory floor. Sips briefly debated checking on him, but Sjin's gentle tug on his wrist made his mind up for him and he followed the other up the stairs. The comfort of an actual bed was a luxury Sips had taken for granted before his and Turps' stint on the factory roof. Now, with Sjin beside him, it was difficult to stay awake long enough to even mutter a half-coherent 'goodnight'.

The thunder woke him from an unpleasant dream about zombies and cocaine. His head pounded and he climbed out of bed after carefully untangling Sjin from around him. The steady rain made a pleasant sound on the roof and Sips took a torch from the wall, walking downstairs in the dimness. Turps wasn't in bed, and Sips wondered briefly if he'd had the same idea to take advantage of the rain. He set the torch aside, peeled off his suit and stepped out into the rain, letting it wash away the dirt and grit from the previous day's activities. After making sure the rain barrels were filling up, Sips grabbed his suit and did his best to rinse out the dirt before pulling it back on and resolving to go and get Sjin. No need in wasting a free shower by sleeping through it.

There was a mad shuffling in the darkness as Sips returned inside and he picked up his torch, peering down at Turps' empty bed, "Hello?"

A deep, guttural growl rumbled from across the factory and suddenly Turps appeared in the torch's sparse light. Sips dropped the torch in shock and it clattered to the floor, extinguished. Turps was about a foot too tall and two feet too wide, muscles stretching his skin that had burst through most of his clothing. His eyes glowed in the darkness and Sips quickly crawled under the bed, biting his bottom lip to hold in a whimper. Turps' footsteps were heavy as he searched, growling and some sort of thick, wet snuffling that Sips took to be Turps smelling for him. The rain seemed to have worked in his favor as Turps passed the bed without much interest and Sips pulled himself out from under the bed and made his way to the foot of the stairs.

Turps was far smarter and faster than his hulking form suggested, and without warning he came charging across the factory toward his former boss. Sips barely managed to stumble aside as Turps crashed into and through the wall he'd been in front of, the reinforced dirt crumbling like sand against the force of him. The sound roused Sjin, and he ran to Sips' side, "Is that Turps?"

"He's gonna bring the whole place down on us," Sips said.

"What do we do?"

Sips chewed his bottom lip as he watched Turps smash his way through the perimeter fence and turn to come back, "Get some iron bars and wait for me by the basement stairs. I have an idea."

Sjin nodded and took off, moving fast through the shadows to the basement. Turps barreled back toward the hole he'd made and Sips waited as long as he could before he turned and ran, passing Sjin and jumping down into the basement. Turps roared after him, more falling than running as he hit the clumsy stairs. Sips turned quickly and darted back up the steps, helping Sjin get the bars into place before Turps figured out he was trapped.

"These won't hold long," Sjin said, "We'd better gather what we can and get out of here."

They did as Sjin suggested, packing as light as they could. Sjin managed to get a lead on the cow and Sips was watching Turps pace in his iron cage, ignoring the pounding rain that had turned cold, "Is this our fault, Sjin?" he said when the architect approached.

Sjin squeezed his shoulder, but his words were no comfort, "I don't know," he said, "Let's go."

Sips hesitated for one brief second, and then he turned away, following Sjin out of the compound as Turps bellowed his frustrations.

* * *

Back at Hat Corp, things were fairly quiet, leaving Smithy and Ross with nothing to do but wait for Trott and Rythian to return. After placing enough torches to make the base's interior look like a massive birthday cake, they found themselves in front of the dryad cages. Chastity and Crystal stared back at them, their expressions unreadable as usual, "What should we do with them?" Ross asked.

"Might have to eat them eventually," Smithy said, then laughed at Ross' reaction.

Ross scowled when the shock of Smithy's joke subsided, "We should set them free. Trott's gone. We could call it an accident."

"Set them free and then what? Hand feed them to the zombies? They're safer in here than out there. All I've ever seen them do is attack one another."

"They're traumatized," Ross argued, "I can't imagine this is a very pleasant way to live, trapped for so long in a stone cage."

"We'll find out soon enough," Smithy said, walking away to sift through the chests for food.

Ross sighed and walked over to the bed, stretching out on it, "It's bloody freezing in here."

Smithy glanced over at his friend; Ross was sweating, looking more pale than usual, "Could be a fever. You'd better not be getting sick, mate. I'm not gonna listen to you honking up for the next twenty-four hours."

"I'm fine," Ross muttered, "Just tired."

Smithy was about to argue when an ominous creaking reached his ears from above where the ladder had once led to the Hat Shack, "Ross?"

"I hear it," he said, sitting up, "Are they in?"

The creaking suddenly stopped and they both strained to listen until the sound of zombies came through the nervous silence, growing quickly to a chorus of snarls, "Shit!"

The growling was almost deafening as dozens of the zombies scrambled down the ruined ladders and Ross jumped off of the bed, "What do we do?!"

"Run!" Smithy called, hurrying over to the secret entrance, "And be quick about it!"

Ross took a few hesitant steps, looking toward the mining tunnel, "What about Trott?"

"Ross, now!" Smithy's cried over the roar of the undead.

"Fuck!" Ross whined, limping quickly to Smithy's side and out into the freedom of the open air.

The horizon was bloodied by the sunset, and Smithy dragged Ross along through the forest toward the river. They floundered across, more drowning than swimming, but Smithy managed to get Ross across to the muddy bank, "I think we're fairly hidden here," he breathed, glancing around from where they sat.

Ross barely had the energy to scowl at him, "We're just waiting here then? For what?"

"Sunrise sounds fine to me," Smithy said, "I don't fancy wandering around in the dark. We'll survive the night then we'll go back for Trott and Rythian. Besides, you look like shit, mate."

"Lost a lot of blood haven't I?" Ross sighed, wiping the sweat from his face, "A bit of sleep sounds alright."

Smithy stood up to gather a few nearby twigs and mud to cobble together some semblance of shelter, "Go ahead. I'll get us a windbreak up before the sun's totally gone."

Ross muttered something under his breath, but soon his breathing had evened out into soft snoring. Smithy paused in his work to remove his jacket and ball it up, sliding it under Ross' head. His friend was hot to the touch, his skin pale and clammy. He wished for a brief moment that Trott was with them, then forced himself to stop thinking, focusing on the lean-to's completion.

When it was finished, the sunlight was nothing but thin pink streaks on the edge of the world, and Smithy felt the primal satisfaction of bone-deep, hard-worked soreness when he crawled in beside Ross, barely getting comfortable before he was out, dead to the world.

* * *

Smithy stirred around midnight, squinting at the odd light falling across his face, "Ross did you put up a torch?" he mumbled.

No response came, but Smithy felt something drop onto his shirt, followed by a soft hissing, "What the hell are you doing?" he said, opening one eye.

Ross was knelt over him, and Smithy realized instantly that it wasn't torchlight, but Ross' eyes that had roused him. A thin line of drool rolled down the man's chin, and another drop fell to hiss on Smithy's shirt just as the first burned its way through and he felt the sting of it. Ross opened his mouth then and his tongue lolled out like a rope, landing with a wet thud on Smithy's chest. The shock was enough to snap Smithy out of his horror trance and he shoved at his former friend, knocking him away and scrambling out of the shelter, ripping his burning shirt off and tossing it to the ground. He spared one glance back as Ross burst through the mud and twigs and gave earnest chase.

Smithy ran through the barley with his heart hammering in his throat, Ross' wet, raspy snarling just over his shoulder. He tripped over a fallen log and went down hard, crying out as he felt his knee give, struggling to his feet as quickly as he could. Ross was arm's length then, but his tongue did the reaching, and Smithy barely managed to dodge as it shot out for him like a hellish lasso.

His left leg throbbed and the chase wore on, weaving through the endless sea of barley until very suddenly, Smithy felt nothing beneath his feet as he tumbled over the edge of a ravine, plummeting straight down before he could even scream. The scream came with throat-ripping force when he landed on the smooth rocks and unfathomable pain wracked his entire body. He coughed blood onto the stone floor as he tore open the leg of his pants where his femur had snapped and shredded through the meat of his thigh, a prominent tower of white amid a sea of blood soaked green.

Ross managed to stop in time, but he leaned out over the edge and snarled down at Smithy like an animal. The sounds grew fuzzier as Smithy fumbled to tourniquet his leg with the remains of his pants, screaming again as he pulled the strip of fabric as tight as he could. That was all he had in him, and by the time Ross' next hungry growl echoed through the chasm, he was out cold, drooling blood down his chest.

* * *

Nilesy was not alone. He'd called until his throat ached, and finally she had come, stooped and wild, hissing and snarling, but it was her. At first he mistook her eyes for torches, but when his mind finally let reality through the haze of denial, tears and bitterness, "Not you, Lom," he whispered, "Anybody but you."

Her eyes were not her own, but her face was pristine and untouched, gazing up at him from the forest floor. She followed his actions like a cat eyeing a mouse, shifting her weight when he did, taking a step when he crossed to another branch. He didn't know how long he'd been out, but he spent the better part of five hours fidgeting in his tree until the insistent ache in his middle forced him to the next tree in search of food. Water would be unavailable unless it rained. Nilesy set his sights on the red pods hanging from a high branch of the tree, carefully crawling out to reach them. The branch swayed in the balmy breeze and Nilesy heard Lomadia in the dead leaves below like a dog awaiting table scraps, but he managed to pick the large red fruit and return to the safer cradle of the larger branches.

His new food was a bit like a safe with no combination, pulling and biting and swearing with utmost determination until it relented, tearing open to expose the white flesh within. It was bitter and odd, but there was the faintest chocolate undertone and Nilesy tried to imagine he was eating a cookie instead of the raw fruit. When his hunger was either sated or dulled by distaste, he started along the branches, heading for the tree adjacent, freezing and swearing with each tiny crack or shift of the wood. Despite his frequent stops and racing heart, he was making legitimate progress deeper into the trees, carefully creeping along all the while keeping a wary eye on his zombie companion, following him like a loyal pet.

The misstep came as quite a surprise to Nilesy. He never heard the wood snapping, and only quick thinking saved him from plummeting as he managed to hook one leg over what was left of the splintered branch. He was upside down, hair in his face and glasses perched dangerously on his ears. He grabbed them, stuffing them into his pocket and wrapped his legs around the branch more securely, preparing to pull himself up.

Suddenly, he was yanked back down, his legs cramping under the pressure. His tie was pulled completely taut where Lomadia had jumped at it and latched on. It was an impossible jump, well over ten feet, but she'd made it swiftly and silently, and now she was steadily choking the life out of him. His hands went instantly to the knot of his tie, pulled tight by the weight on it. He began to see black dots in his vision as he worked to save himself, "Lom... let go!" he coughed.

At the sound of his voice, she reached out and her claws split the flesh of his face like warm butter. Blood poured into his left eye and obscured his already blurry vision. In desperation, Nilesy ran his hands through the blood on his face, rubbing his neck and chin with it and managing to work the tie over his chin where Lomadia's weight instantly pulled it free and she went to the ground. Nilesy scrambled instantly back to his branch, using his shirt to wipe away as much blood as he could before replacing his glasses, "Right," he muttered, "That was fun."

He rested then, tying himself to the branch with his single piece of rope and either dozing off or fainting. When he woke up the sun was setting and it smelled like rain.

* * *

Hat Corp was no more when Rythian and Trott returned from their exposition, just a room full of milling zombies that were loud even in their calm state. Rythian put a hand out to stop Trott, drawing his sword, but the scientist barreled in anyway, calling for his friends, "We can't stay here," Rythian barked, "There's nothing left to save, Trott!"

"What about Ross and Smithy?!" Trott shouted back, taking another step.

Rythian grabbed him by his coat and dragged him back, shouting over the zombies, "They're not here! We have to go back into the mines now damn it! We won't find them if we're dead!"

Trott blinked and nodded, reached by Rythian's words, "Right, you're right," he muttered, sparing one last look at the ruined base before following the Enderborn back into the mining shaft.

"You're doing the right thing," Rythian said, keeping his eyes out for any zombies they'd intrigued with their shouting.

"I'm with you," Trott snapped, "Don't rub it in by patronizing me. I left the only people I've ever had for some stupid mining trip and I'm abandoning our home. That should be enough. I don't plan on celebrating the decision anytime soon."

Rythian nodded, "Fair enough," he said, "Make yourself useful and watch our ass then."

Enderbane bit particularly hard into Rythian's hand and he sheathed the sword with a grunt of irritation, curling his hand into a fist and trying to ignore the blood seeping out between his fingers. He'd broken his other sword just as he'd arrived at Hat Corp and there had been no chance to repair or replace it, leaving him with his uncomfortable last resort. As long as he kept his hands bandaged, it hadn't been a problem, but sweat and distraction made for a shitty wrap job, and he was paying for it.

"Where are we going?" Trott asked sorely.

"The tunnels go off in every direction. I'd like to follow them under the river. It might get us far enough away to escape the hoard. Otherwise I'm afraid they'll be waiting where we come up."

Trott seemed to accept this plan, and stayed quiet for several minutes, "You're bleeding."

"I cut myself," Rythian lied, "I'm fine."

Trott shrugged, "Might want to be a little more careful then. We wouldn't want you dying from stupidity after all of your work surviving so far."

"I get it," Rythian muttered, "And you might want to try being a little less nosey."

"Maybe you should try being a better liar," Trott said.

* * *

The caves were quiet; with most of the threat stumbling around in broad daylight, spiders and skeletons seemed vastly underwhelming. Night was as bright as day in their little cavern, thanks to Xephos, and his nervous blathering was kept to a minimum as a result. His shoulder wound seemed to have wrestled free of the creeping infection and Lalna found himself changing weepy bandages less and less often. He almost missed the talks that resulted from his doctoring, and sure enough, Xephos' attention returned to Honeydew as soon as Lalna grew obsolete. Toby was quiet, almost silent when they were huddled together, but Honeydew never stopped trying to cheer him up, "Come on Toby let's have a story," the dwarf urged as they prepared to bunk down, "Give us a scary one."

To Lalna it felt like late morning, but the cave had thrown off even the strictest of internal clocks and they slept when they felt collectively tired or bored enough. Toby smiled and scratched the back of his neck, his smile fading away like dust in a stiff breeze, "I only have one."

"Go on then, tell us about your simple life out in the woods."

"Life hasn't been simple for a long time," Toby said, "Not since I met Littlewood. Everything he does is governed by the trees and the seasons. In Spring and Summer he's irresistible, hilarious, compassionate. In the Fall he starts to get quiet and sad, staring at the trees a lot. Winter is when it goes bad."

It was eerily quiet for a beat, and even Honeydew didn't dare to break it. Toby gathered his thoughts and started again.

"Littlewood changes in the Winter just like all of the other seasons. His heart goes cold like... I don't know, like he dies inside. His eyes turn dark and he turns dark. He only smiles when it's a threat and his voice becomes this horrible little sing-song. I was afraid to fall asleep before he does; I'd wake

up scraped up or sometimes when I was mining a little landslide would come out of nowhere... It's always something."

Lalna felt Xephos scoot closer, just a minuscule shifting of muscles. He must have been afraid, afraid of how the story might end. It was inescapably eerie, Toby's voice clear and monotone with an occasional tremble, the thought that each winter where was a violent psychopath stalking the woods, "So he hurt you?"

"It was more like violent pranks," Toby said, "Littlewood's got a great sense of humor but it gets warped in the Winter just like the rest of him. It was just enough to scare me, not directly attacking me, never admitting to doing any of it."

Honeydew leaned closer like a child hearing a scary story it was likely too young for, "But you didn't leave?"

"I did," Toby said, "A couple of years ago I ran off one night. It was freezing and I didn't manage to get very far before I had to make shelter and a fire. I didn't have the supplies to make it to anyone's base. Anyway the same night I heard him, singing... Or I guess it was singing; it sounded more like humming and whispering and crying all at the same time."

Lalna thought about Nano and wrapped his arms around his knees, but Toby's confession seemed cathartic, and he kept going, "The next time I ran it was in the Fall when he was himself. I got far enough away that he didn't follow me. The next time I saw him he'd just parted ways with Parvis. Maybe I never should have left. I guess I forgot that the Spring made up for the Winter a thousand times over... now it's too late. He's some kind of tree zombie and we're going to spend the rest of our lives in caves."

The three were quiet for an awkward stretch of silence, unsure whether to express fear at what amounted to a horror story or sorrow for Toby's loss of Littlewood. Honeydew summed their feelings best, "One hell of a bedtime story."

Lalna stared at the roof of the cave and tried not to think of Nano, her face, the screams they left behind in Panda Labs. Would he ever see her again? Hear her scolding him or endure her gently wicked pranks? He glanced over at his companions with mild jealousy; it seemed that no matter the disaster, Xephos and Honeydew were inseparable, always there for the other to lean on, never mourning such profound loss. They seemed like they'd both seen a thousand years before he'd ever met them, and he had the nagging suspicion they'd seen a thousand more after he was long gone.

"Try not to beat yourself up," Honeydew was saying when Lalna drifted back into the conversation, "On the list of fuck ups in this cave alone I'd say yours is fairly low. At least fifth or sixth."

Xephos snorted, "Your days consist mainly of fuck ups."

Lalna sat up, running his hand through his hair, "Bugger this," he said suddenly.

"What are you on about?" Xephos asked.

"It's time to put an end to the stalling," Lalna said, moving to shove a few things into his backpack, "I need to fix this."

Honeydew stepped forward and put a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Just get some sleep. You can't fix this, Lalna. There's no end to it but blood."

"Then let me bleed," Lalna growled impatiently, standing up, "Survival isn't enough. We can't find the others and it's more than likely there all dead. We're all that's left and huddling around torches eating mushroom stew isn't the way I want the human race to go out. Even if it's too late and Toby and I are the only humans left, I want to see it done."

"You can't go alone," Xephos said, "For Pete's sake, Lalna. It's hell out there! Just wait for Ridge to fix it or at least let's all go."

"I have to go alone. Toby needs someone and you're still not fit to fight. Besides, I'll move faster alone. Ridge is taking too long."

Honeydew and Xephos stared sadly at the scientist. "Take the jetpack," Xephos finally said, standing as well.

Lalna shook his head, "You three need it more than I do and I can't refuel it anyway."

"Some healing potions then," Xephos insisted, "There are plenty."

"Alright," Lalna conceded, And if I don't make it back-"

"It's been fun," Honeydew said, his eyes shining with a hearty grin.

Xephos stepped forward and embraced Lalna, neither speaking until the spaceman pulled back, "Don't be an idiot; be careful."

"I'm going to fix it," Lalna said, walking to the entrance to their cavern, "I promise."


End file.
